I created this blog to record our RV trips; it morphed into what's happening, life in our retirement lane, what's on my mind and telling my tales of life aka my outlet for writing. I have almost totally migrated to Facebook where I communicate daily, instantly with family/friends all over the country and world. COPYWRIGHT NOTICE: All photos, stories, writings on this blog are the property of myself, Patricia Morrison and may not be used, copied, without my permission most often freely given.

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Be like the fox in the pack of hounds

MY NEW 2012 BLOG JUST FOR BOOKS--wander over

Addicted to reading and writing

This blog is my outlet for words. I have always loved to read and write. I suppose I am a woman of words--too many words according to Jerry! Friends and relatives often commented about letters I would write. That's pre-email. Later closest friends encouraged me to write, always thinking somewhere inside me was a best seller book. So now in retirement one would think I have time to do that but, huh uh! Where does the time go?

My new blog dedicated solely to the books I read, review and discuss is up which will allow me to have more space here.

Follow the link above or Google Pat's Books Read and Reviewed

Quote about Books

I found this scrap clipping clearing out paperwork, there is no author, I wished I'd written it but I didn't and I don't know who did: "Your books are your autobiography; they map your history, reflect your tastes, hold emotional moments between covers."

Back Deck 2016

Me with new hat Quebec

Mountie and Me

Me in Nova Scotia, Halifax with Big Guy

Me aboard the Celebrity Summit

Cruising the North Atlantic October 2014

LaCrosse Bridges

Bridges of LaCrosse

To My Little Boy (Author Unknown)

Found this in an old Country Ideals Magazine, Vol 59, No. 3

How often as I watched you at your playI wished that through the years, you might remainA boy as upon a summer's day.Changeless and glad and unaware of pain.Memory of your laughter falls with sadness in my heart,When you were so young, so sure, so unafraid;You'd not heard there would be a time to partOr that the road leads down into the shade.Would I might have kept you from what all must learn--The doubt, the fever, the battles lost and wild.Would I might build a world that would not turnTo dust beneath the footsteps of a child!Son, this can never be I know,Yet it is out of earth that flowers grow.